


Amortentia and Decay

by Entwinedlove



Series: Of Sparks and Spellfire [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Dubious Consent, F/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2019-06-13 01:16:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15353019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwinedlove/pseuds/Entwinedlove
Summary: Antonin Dolohov gives his new wife an interesting option on their wedding night.





	Amortentia and Decay

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a moodboard I created for the HPrarepairnet's February Challenge "Be Mine"
> 
> [ ](https://i.imgur.com/2yGwWRG.jpg)

Hermione sat with her legs tucked under her in the burgundy upholstered armchair in front of a roaring fire. The room was lovely, decorated in light greys and deep reds. The mantle was empty of knickknacks and a single full bookcase decorated an interior wall. The exterior wall had a single floor to ceiling window and a door leading to a tiny balcony, both were shaded with heavy curtains. Both were locked. Hermione had checked.

Scarlet rose petals were sprinkled on the coffee table between the armchairs and two tall glasses with a heavy red wine. They'd appeared there when Dolohov had ushered her into the bathroom for a warm bath and left her with only a floor length, white, lacy negligee to wear. She eyed the wine with suspicion.

"Please have a drink," he spoke softly as he joined her in the opposing armchair, picking up one of the glasses and bringing it to his lips. She watched but couldn't tell if he actually drank from it.

"What's in it?"

"Port."

She pursed her lips at his single word answer. He set his glass back down, closer to him, but as it slid back down the side of the glass it seemed to settle into the same stain it originally held and no lower.

"Aside from the wine."

He looked her in the face and narrowed his eyes at her like he hadn't expected her to think it was poisoned. It's not like she was here willingly. It had been his request to his Dark Lord that had brought them to this room, in this odd arrangement.

"I don't think you poisoned it but I wouldn't put it past you to have drugged it. To make things... easier for you."

He tilted his head back as if finally understanding her question.

"What do you think is in it?" He asked.

"Some form of Lust Potion. Maybe a Befuddlement Draught."

He turned his head to look at the fire and nodded his head like he was contemplating something. "And if I told you it wasn't either of those?" he asked, looking back at her.

"You wouldn't have poisoned me, not after going to all the trouble of having me properly registered so you could marry me." The words felt wrong on her tongue. Registering was something one did with a pet or an automobile, not another human being. And the ridiculous ceremony in front of the Dark Lord and his remaining Death Eaters could only vaguely be compared to any marriage ceremony she'd ever seen or heard about. Yet, here she was, wrapped up in white lace like a present he would eagerly open.

She hated every part of this. She hated him. There was at least a thirty-year difference between them, if not more. He'd tried to kill her on more than one occasion. And now she was tied to this man, this Death Eater. She wouldn't drink the wine if there was something that would muddle her mind. She wanted to remember everything, only so she would know what revenge she needed to exact later.

"What if I told you it was Amortentia?" He asked, making eye contact now.

For some reason, the idea of being forced to love or obsess over him scared her more than not being fully in charge of her senses. She tried not to let her fear show but her eyes had widened and the corner of his mouth lifted in the hint of a smirk.

"It's not laced with Amortentia," he confirmed. "It's not laced with anything, actually."

"I don't believe you. You didn't drink any of it."

"I don't want to dull my senses when I touch my wife for the first time. I thought you might want the opposite, something to ease the nerves."

"I'd rather not."

He nodded again. "Fair enough." He gestured across the room, "Then get on the bed."

The air left Hermione's lungs in a rush and then she sucked in a breath too fast. Her heartbeat picked up in an instant and her palms felt sweaty.

"Get on the bed, Hermione." He had moved. Stood and walked toward the bed and only then looked back at her.

"I..." she paused, out of breath somehow, "I... no. No," she repeated, more firm the second time.

"Would you like a Lust Potion, wife?"

"No," she said again, but this time in response to his question. "No, I don't want a Calming Draught, either. I don't want anything to mess with my head."

"I can make the loss of control easier on you but you have to consent to it." His hands paused in their movement of unbuttoning his robes.

"What?" She asked, thoroughly confused. Consent? There was no consent in this situation at all!

He walked toward her, slow and sure like she was a wild animal and would startle easily. He grabbed her hands and held them in front of her with his own. His hands dwarfed hers and she lost another breath when she tilted her head back to realise just how much taller than her he was. He knelt at her feet and she looked at him with confusion on her features.

"If you consent to it, I will tie you down."

She jerked her hands away; that would make things worse! "What? No! Why would I want to be tied down? Do you like the idea of a woman struggling underneath you?"

"No," he said, his voice still calm and low. He retook her hands in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Tying you down, with your consent, gives you the permission to let go and enjoy it. In your mind, you can make the excuse that you didn't have a choice but that's why I will only tie you down if you consent and choose to be tied down. You'll even have a safe word, in case things are overwhelming and you need me to stop."

She stared at him like he'd gone mad but then her brain seemed to click different bits and pieces of information into place as she formed a picture of what he was saying. Bondage. Fantasies. Rape fantasy. Consenting, safe place. Safe words. All words from conversations with her mother, her aunt, her doctor. It still didn't seem like the most appropriate sort of thing to do on one's wedding night. Even if one was a Death Eater.

She shook her head, intending to say no but the word that slipped from her lips was yes.

"Hermione," Dolohov stood and stared into her eyes, "do you consent to be tied down? Wrists bound to the headboard with satin ties reinforced with magic?"

"Yes," she said the word slowly, tentatively, as if it were newly-created and she was trying it out for the first time.

He held the eye contact and raised his eyebrows.

"Yes," she repeated more firmly.

He nodded and squeezed her hands. "Now choose a safe word. Something that will be deliberate and not slip out without thought."

Her eyes wandered the room trying to think of a word that would be easy enough to remember but nothing she would say by accident. Her gaze landed on his Death Eater mask on a set of drawers against the wall. She'd never realised how much like a skull it looked until that moment.

"Decay."

He glanced over his shoulder to see what she was looking at before nodding again. "Will you get on the bed, Hermione?"

She did as he asked feeling equal parts fearful, nervous, intrigued, and excited.


End file.
